Continuing our series on the region’s rarest flora and fauna, a nod to the wonderful conservation work of Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy author Douglas Adams, Southeast Asia’s most dedicated conservationists introduce the here-today-gone-tomorrow creatures that excite them most
Airborne undertakers:
Asian vultures
Beneath the headline Aux jardins de la mort (‘In the gardens of the dead’), on the front page of an ancient black-and-white copy of French journal La vie illustrée, an emaciated man in turban and loin cloth squats in the dust beneath a barren tree. At his feet, only marginally more emaciated, a human corpse lies prone. The entire morbid scene is surrounded by a two-deep ring of monochrome Gyps vultures, hooked beaks straining toward the stench of death.
The skies above Asia were once crowded with these doyens of body disposal, but their numbers dropped by a staggering 95% in the space of just three years in the 1990s. It wasn’t until 2004, however, that scientists finally worked out why: anti-inflammatory drug Diclofenac, widely used to treat ailing livestock, is fatal to raptors who feed on their poisoned carcasses. The risk of extinction is now very real. In a bid to counter their decline, certain birds are now being treated to privileged dining.
“Cambodian vultures are fed by the Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS) and its partners at five ‘vulture restaurants’ in open deciduous forest,” says Dr Hugo Rainey, one of the WCS’ technical advisors. “These restaurants supplement the limited food available for vultures in the wild and allow our monitoring teams to count vultures as they come to feed. We also monitor breeding and each year find between 20 and 35 nests along riverine forest and hilly areas.”
A 2010 survey by the WCS counted almost 300 vultures in the skies above the country, a record high. “By protecting nests and supplementing food supplies, we are saving some of the world’s largest and most charismatic birds,” says Dr Rainey. “Three critically endangered species inhabit the Northern and Eastern plains of Cambodia: the white-rumped, red-headed, and slender-billed, remnants of the large flocks once found across Asia. These all but disappeared as large herds of wild herbivores dwindled, agriculture was intensified and persecution of them increased. Today, the principle cause of death is poisoning as an accidental consequence of local hunting and fishing practices. Now, the only stable or increasing population of vultures in the region is in Cambodia, with a small population in Myanmar.”
Feathered football:
white-eared night heron
Looking not unlike a feathered football, this stout hunchback has something of the night about it. The bird’s eeriness is compounded by its method of hunting: Gorsachius magnificus stalks aquatic prey – fish, amphibians, reptiles, crustacean, insects, other birds and even small mammals – by standing motionless for hours on end in shallow water, then striking with a dagger-sharp bill. Such ‘still fishing’ tactics are critical to the survival of these waders, which can adapt to almost any terrain provided water is on hand. With less than 100 left in the wild, they were believed extinct in Vietnam until a lone bird was spotted roosting in Bac Kan province a decade ago, and have the dubious honour of being included in the book The Fifty Rarest Birds In The World.
Seemingly unfazed by less-than-pristine habitat, they are often found close to human dwellings, a decision not without its downsides. During interviews with the People Resources and Conservation Foundation, notes technical advisor Michael Dine, “local people often commented with mouth-watering relish that in the past they used to gather eggs and chicks – and, if they were lucky, adult birds – from nests to eat. Everyone noted how tasty the bird was when cooked in a rice soup and chased down with a bottle of corn wine. Now they lament that all the birds near their homes have been eaten.” Today, local people are instead paid stipends for nest-finding and the protection of fledglings in a bid to temper their lust for heron soup.
“A member of one of the local ethnic minorities once took me by boat to about 30 metres from a tree with a nesting pair and directed me to look halfway up it through my binoculars,” recalls Dine of his first encounter with this “very secretive” creature. “After 30 minutes of fruitless searching and a very sore neck, I spotted a pair of yellow legs, then a second pair close by, standing deathly still and making no noise whatsoever. I was particularly taken by their brown underside with whitish streaks – camouflage that rendered them almost invisible when viewed from below. What a marvellous adaptation to the environment.”
Stealth hunter:
Indochinese leopard
Unlike their domesticated counterparts, these cats don’t play with their food: prey is dispatched with a rapid pounce-and-bite combo. Although not yet as far out on the extinction ledge as other species featured in this series, Panthera pardus delacouri warrants a special mention. Mark Gately, former director of the Wildlife Conservation Society in Cambodia, where the species thrives in Mondolkiri forest, nominated the leopard for inclusion because of its incredible ability to adapt to fast-changing environments.
“As people reach further and further into the forest and normal habitat for other species starts disappear, leopards actually do quite well because they’re extremely versatile,” he said. “In India, for example, you see that leopards can live quite happily by preying on dogs next to villages. They can eat everything from tiny shrews to silverback gorillas, although obviously that gets them into trouble sometimes, too.”
Contributing to the leopard’s declining number is the popularity of its distinctive spotted hide among the hunting fraternity, along with that of other body parts such as the penis and testes on the traditional medicine market. In China, the domestic ban on trade notwithstanding, stockpiles of leopard bone are still used by the makers of traditional remedies – often as an alternative to tiger parts – with the full consent of Beijing.
Despite spending years studying leopard populations in Africa before relocating to Asia, Gately has only once been fortunate enough to see one close-up in the wild. “We were heading towards a clearing in the Congo, where I was working at the time, and suddenly saw a leopard about 20 metres away. We just stood there, trying very hard not to move or breathe. You would often see them in the distance, from the safety of a vehicle, but to see one in the flesh, when it’s just you and the animal and there’s nowhere to hide, is extremely rare – and a little unnerving.”